


Fantasies Collide

by Cockadoodledont



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Big Brother Cloud, Cloud Argentum, F/M, Final Fantasy 15+7, Hiding in Plain Sight, Human Experimentation, Kidnapping, M/M, MT!Cloud, Multi, On the Run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cockadoodledont/pseuds/Cockadoodledont
Summary: In a world where the Empire is Shinra Electric, the infantry is replaced with Magitec troopers, and SOLDIERs and Glaive are the elite forces on two opposing sides of a never ending war– Jenova, the Scourge, the Crystal, Mako, and the Life Stream are all just means to an end. The Oracle and the Ancient are innocents caught in the crosshairs of a battle they never wanted. Meanwhile, a prince and his retainers, a Glaive and his pride, and four elite SOLDIERs searching for an important yet seemingly expandable MT infantry unit that escaped from the labs all have to figure out their future roles to play in the events to come…Before it’s too late…





	1. MT On the Run!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Work is super crazy lately, but I am on vacation now!!! Yay! That means I will finally get around to editing all the lovely chapters and hopefully update some of my other stories, and finally kick a few other ideas around!!! 
> 
> For those of you who follow some of my work, thanks for all your love and support! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!!

_“And this breaking news just in, a lone MT has been spotted on the outskirts of Insomnia today. While it was not spotted with a group, it is doubtful that it was traveling alone…”_

Prompto sighed as he passed the food stall’s cart on his way home, it’s radio playing strong and polluting the air with its drivel.

_“If you see anything suspicious, all citizens are directed to call the local authorities. Now, onto other news…”_

It was probably just a prank some kids were playing and the media got a hold of it. He still remembered what happened last time the media got a hold of him standing next to Noctis, claiming Luna was disguising herself as a boy to get near her love.

Noctis had laughed. Gladio had bought him a skirt. Ignis had apologized.

Prompto continued to breeze down the street, dodging the food carts trying to clean up and clear out before the storm hit, picking up his pace when he felt a rogue raindrop glance his arm. It would be just his luck to have turned down Ignis for a ride home and end up looking like a drowned rat.

Of course, all those thoughts came to a stop when he turned the corner and saw a homeless man (well, he thought it was a man) sitting on the side of the street, swaddled in a blue tarp.

That tarp would do nothing once the rain started falling and the wind blew. And he could just make out the well worn combat boots sticking out from beneath the blue plastic.

Probably a war veteran with no place to go. Or a war refugee that thought it was safer roughing it on the Insomnian streets than in their own home country.

Prompto hated how his pace slowed automatically and his hand went to his pocket. After all, he was a bleeding heart. He couldn’t pass a poor homeless person on the street without feeling the tiniest bit guilty for at least having a warm dry place to go to.

He pulled out his wallet and dug out more than he could really spare, but then again they had nothing in comparison. He grinned and jogged over.

“Hey, sir?” The figure pulled the tarp tighter down on it’s face, tensing up as he approached. They probably thought Prompto was going to tell him off or do something mean like most teens his age would no doubt do. What had this poor person been through in its life that it had come to this?

He bowed to show his respect as he drew closer, and he was happy to see the figure unclench just enough for him to see strangely familiar pale lips in the shadow of the material. They didn’t smile, but Prompto smiled awkwardly enough for the both of them.

He offered out the crinkled bills, and the figure just sat there, silently. “Sorry, I don’t have much, but… maybe this will help a little bit?”

The tarp still didn’t move, but Prompto could tell something was watching him beneath it, judging.

Hesitantly, the plastic shuttered, and almost faster than Prompto could track, a black gloved hand shot out. Surprisingly metal tipped fingers snatched the bills from his palm before they were gone.

Prompto’s smile got ten times brighter when the bills left his hand. If he were anyone else, he may have been offended by the fact he hadn’t been thanked, but he rarely ever did anything for a few simple words. The fact the figure might last a little while longer in the city because of what little he could give was thanks enough.

He smiled and waved as he backed away. “You might want to find a place to stay dry soon. It’s supposed to storm really bad here in a little bit!”

He turned to leave, the rain starting to make a pitter-patter sound on the stranger’s tarp and soak into the warmth of his own jacket. He was smiling so brightly at his one good deed for the day he didn’t notice the rustling of the tarp as the stranger stood, plastic fluttering to the ground from its shoulders and head to reveal glowing red eyes, green-metallic features, and a full armored body with a Niflheim insignia center chest.

It’s eyes locked onto the retreating form, head tilting curiously till it registered the sound of a nearing vehicle.

With agile, inhuman grace it leaped to the nearby fire escape, soundlessly launching from railing to rooftop, an unseen and unheard shadow to the innocent teen as he hummed to himself and bumbled down the road to an old apartment building.

The MT waited as Prompto fumbled with his keys, mistakenly dropping them long enough that the trooper could glean the faded number off the well worn metal surface with it’s superior vision.

Like a spider, the MT began crawling up the wall, metal spikes jutting out of it’s palms and stabbing the brickwork until it reached the correct window, easily sliding the latch open and slipping inside the room just as the storm hit at its fullest.

After all, if anyone could get the MT out of the trouble it had landed itself in, it would be a kindred spirit. Someone like itself. It was pure luck that it found someone else with a barcode this far from Niflheim. And in the city of Insomnia, no less? Another unit must have gotten the same idea it had at some point.

It waited by the door, knowing it wouldn’t be welcome until it could get it’s mask off and explain to its fellow runaway that it wasn’t there to turn it in. Maybe ask it how it escaped without sounding any alarms or being tracked.

It could help.

It had to help.

Prompto obliviously opened the door a few moments later. He was immediately greeted, not by the sight of his empty home, but with the vision of an imposing MT unit standing mere feet away, just in front of his tellingly open window. Rain and wind howled through the portal as papers blew around his room in a chaotic mess.

Maybe he should have listened to the radio earlier.

He immediately made to slam the door, but he was thwarted by a disturbingly familiar, worn combat boot as it wedged itself in the frame, making it bounce back open even wider than before, nearly smacking Prompto in the face.

As if predicting the other might run or scream, the MT’s arm shot out, grabbing Prompto by the collar and dragging him across the threshold of his ruined home.

A deceptively humanoid hand donning black gloves with metal tipped fingers. A very familiar hand… just like the homeless person’s hands…

Of course he should have seen something like this happening, Prompto thought to himself. After all, no good deed goes unpunished.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang.

He analyzed his surroundings, trying to discern what the best corse of action was in this situation while being dragged deeper into the once-upon-a-time impenetrable safety of his home, papers crunching beneath his reluctant steps as he was hastened along.

To buy himself time, Prompto fumbled with his phone. The moment he got it out of his pocket it was quickly plucked from his hand and thrown across the room, probably leaving a dent in the wall where it mo doubt hit and shattered.

The lights flickered almost simultaneously, and Prompto’s shocked and indignant shout was drowned out by a thunder crash so loud the building shook. Another clap of thunder and the lights completely failed.

Unsettlingly enough, the only light in the apartment now came from the MT’s glowing red eyes just centimeters away from Prompto’s own. He desperately wanted to, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away. Those were going to be the last thing he saw before he died, he was sure of it. Those empty, lifeless, red eyes boring into his soul.

“Please, don’t kill me!” He tried to pry the fingers off of his shirt, but they were latched in a death grip. “I swear, if this is to get to Noctis then there are better people to kill than me! N-not that you should kill any of them!!! In fact, he doesn’t even like me that much! We are only classmates! He doesn’t even like me!!!” His fists started beating against its chest next, hits as useless as the lies that flew from his mouth. Not like the machine in front of him cared what he said. It was probably programmed to kill the prince’s friends or something, but he could hope.

As expected, the infantry MT ignored his pleas, kicking his legs out from under him and straddling him in one smooth motion that knocked the wind out of him.

Prompto considered summoning his gun for a moment, but at such close range and in his position it would be useless. Not to mention Noctis would instantly become aware of the fact his armiger was being accessed and come looking.

Getting the Prince involved was probably exactly what Niflheim would want. He would rather die than put his friend in that position.

…So he tried to punch the MT instead. He didn’t really know what that would do to a machine. The hit would probably hurt him more than it’s circuits, but he couldn’t not do anything!

The hit never landed anyway. The robotic hand clamped down on his wrist mid swing. He expected it to crush his hand, but it was surprisingly gentle despite the fact his fingers were going numb from the pressure.

It robotically twisted his hand this way and that, and Prompto stilled, worried that one wrong move would cost him his life. Or his hand. He had heard stories of MTs tearing victims limb from limb. Up until that point he had thought they were all lies to dissuade him from training to be in the Crowns Guard. Now he wasn’t so sure.

The red eyes analyzed his wrist before moving its other hand up to his bracelets. One finger slipped under the loose bands and –

_Snap!_

“Ouch!!! Hey! Don’t–“

He shut his mouth instantly, bands falling heavily to his chest as the robot traced his shameful black barcode. What was it going to do? What did it want?

It braced it’s free hand beside Prompto’s head, making him flinch. He clenched his teeth, watching as it slowly lowered its head till it was eye to eye with it’s prey. He was so hypnotized by those eyes he didn’t notice what it was doing to his barcoded wrist till it was pressing the discolored skin to it’s cold neck.

Prompto hissed, more out of surprise at the cold yet tender grip it held him in than from any real pain.

A green light flashed, the red faded from its eyes, and an electric beep whistled.

Prompto shouted in shock as the robot’s face fell off onto his chest, just on top of the ruined bracelets. Both stayed there, forgotten.

It was what was under the metal face that had Prompto’s breath catch and heart hammer faster than ever before.

No! It had to be a trick of the light. There couldn’t be–

Lightning flashed and the curtains blew open, giving him clear view of a face.

A face far too much like his own to be real.

A face with glowing blue eyes, a smattering of freckles, and wild blond hair.

No. There was no mistaking that face. It was the same face that looked back at him in the mirror every morning, though perhaps slightly older.

MT’s mouth moved, his lips – no, they were Prompto’s lips – turned downward into a rare frown.

Prompto didn’t frown often.

Why was Prompto frowning down at himself? How could he frown down at himself? That didn’t make any sense.

He couldn’t hear the words he said to himself over the rush of the storm. Or was that the rush in his head?

Had his brain shorted itself out?

Had the MT shorted itself out?

Was he an MT?

As he faded out of reality, he thought to himself that you couldn’t really lose consciousness in a dream.

This had to be a dream.

He was probably just waking up!

Yeah! In fact, he was probably waking up after having fallen asleep watching Star Wars on Noctis’s couch! That explained the Luke Skywalker like dream sequence he was having.

But all that met him was endless black as his eyes rolled back.

Nothing made sense.

———————————

General Sepheroth had been trying to hide. Trying being the key word, considering his height and unmistakable presence. His shirtless uniform and long silver hair did nothing to help him blend into his surroundings unless it was that of a bdsm club.

He could thank Genesis for that unwanted discovery.

The other problem with his attempt at being unseen was the fact that, not only was he trying to hide from his father, but also his father’s equally disturbed scientist buddy, and-

“General Sephiroth! Just the man I was looking for!” Called an overly jubilant voice that was so flamboyant he was sure Genesis would be able to light the mere sound of it ablaze if he stood too near.

Great. Of all the people to have found him.

“Chancellor Izunia… to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Despite the fact he was cursing his luck in his head, he was always able to hide his true emotions under a mask of indifference and polite confusion. As cold as the masks of MT units, as Angeal had once said. The man probably hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but he took it as one anyway.

The only problem with his feigned confusion was, while such tactics tended to work on his father and the other scientists, he had a feeling Ardyn wasn’t fooled.

He never was.

He played the same game Sephiroth did, but somehow knew the rules better. It was unsettling, to say the least. Even more so because Ardyn was able to innocently manipulate a situation in such a way that it was undetectable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. He already easily had Hojo wrapped around his pinky, and the Emperor around his middle digit. Verstael Besithia was probably connected to his thumb, and with a few simple flicks of his wrist he could have the whole of Niflheim dancing for him like a puppet.

“I merely wished to know how you are doing.” That was a lie. “Do you by any chance know where Zack is? I was hoping to catch a word with him.”

Like Sepheroth was going to tell Ardyn where his newest up and coming was. Hell would freeze over before he let Zack get wrapped up in Ardyn’s prettily worded lies.

Ardyn didn’t need to know that, though. “I am not aware of his whereabouts, but I could ask after Angeal for him?” He held his hands up in a manner some of his acquaintances used to explain that their hands were metaphorically tied. He wasn’t sure if Ardyn understood, but from how the man watched his gesticulation, he suspected he might. “He is the one directly in charge of Zack’s training, so if anyone would know, he would.”

Normally he would feel bad about throwing someone to Ardyn, but Angeal was out of town on a mission and he knew the man wouldn’t be in range of contact for at least a few more days.

Ardyn shrugged, the simpleness of the motion so natural that if Sephiroth was a lesser man he would have been jealous of the fact that he had to practice such normal, everyday social cues in the mirror.

He wasn’t jealous, though. The fact he had to observe such things and practice them so often was the only reason he began to notice and doubt Ardyn in the first place. It was also the main reason the unique man failed to woo him like he had done to most everyone else he met.

Ardyn sauntered down the hall, his smile deceptively kind and innocent. How did Sephiroth know it was false? Because he had met truly innocent people before. He had run them through with his own blade for the Empire he served. He had met Zack, who was still far too kind and thoughtful for someone who sold their soul to Hojo’s SOLDIER program.

Unlike Zack, Ardyn’s smile was… warped. Some might call it jaded, but he hid the truth behind prettily worded sentences, flattery, and limp-wristed foppishness. He was both the Emperor’s Jester and trusted advisor.

He knew Ardyn was false. He also knew Ardyn knew he knew. Sephiroth was almost completely sure of it, despite the fact those words were never stated outright.

Because of this, it was always a game of chicken between himself and the older man. He refused to let himself be seen as week or uncomfortable, and Ardyn would push the unstructured boundaries as hard as he could to prove otherwise.

Today, that level of unprofessional harassment included a hand on his chest, placed there as if it was normal to caress the dips in another’s pectoral muscles when conversing. Sephiroth knew very well at this point in his life that it was not a normal interaction. Why Ardyn would do such a thing was still a concept that was somewhat lost on him, though.

Sephiroth refused to even let his muscles flex at the unclean feel of surprisingly worn fingers on his chest.

He had no emotions. He was a dog of the military. He was a tool, a weapon. Weapons didn’t feel.

Maybe if he told himself that enough he would believe the words were true. That he wasn’t human.

“Perhaps you could help me, then?” Ardyn smirked and Sephiroth cursed himself. Obviously he gave something away for the briefest moment in his expression. Or maybe Ardyn was pretending he had let something slip just to get him to drop his guard?

The man leaned closer, far to intimate to be appropriate, and a breath ghosted against his face smelling of sulphur and ash.

The man must have smoked a cigaret recently. What a disgusting habit.

“I will see what I can do.” Sephiroth stated firmly. Anything to get Ardyn away from him.

“Oh, wonderful! I knew I could count on you!” Ardyn’s hand retreated now that he had what he wanted. He was finished intimidating his pray, after all, but not before slipping his hand beneath Sephiroth’s coat, subtly groping a muscled ab before pushing away.

When Sephiroth knew the man was looking away his eyebrow twitched. He could handle such touches in a lab. Heck, he was more comfortable with his own father touching him and measuring him in ways and places father’s were never supposed to touch and measure on their children. There was a certain level of clinical professionalism to all of that poking and prodding, even if he didn’t really understand it all. There must have been a reason for it if his father was letting it happen… but Ardyn wasn’t his father. Ardyn wasn’t taking notes. Ardyn was doing it for his own sick amusement, because he liked getting under other people’s skin.

“You see, General, we have a slight problem. A special joint project between your father and our esteemed Besithia escaped from the labs recently,” the man hummed, looking away with a chagrined smirk. “The project looks like little more than an MT unit, but it is unprogrammed and… different. You understand how unfortunate it might be if such technology wandered into our enemy’s hands?”

Why did Sephiroth get the strange feeling Ardyn had something to do with it’s escape? “All MT units are chipped. Track it’s location and haul it back. I do not see how this is my business.”

He turned to leave, but was stopped by the man’s enigmatic voice.

“We thought of that, of course, but it unfortunately went out of range.”

Sephiroth snorted. “Out of range? That’s impossible. I have seen my father’s work on those trackers. They are foolproof.” He hated the fact his curiosity was piqued by the idea of his father’s failure. He turned back around, already regretting his decision when he saw Ardyn’s wicked smile.

“It’s entirely possible,” Ardyn countered with a shake of his finger and head. “You see, it passed Insomnia’s border. The magic of the Wall is interfering with our signal.” His smirk grew into something warped and excited all at once. It was a look Sephiroth knew too well. A look he only gave just before he got what he wanted from someone. “However, if we could sneak someone passed the Wall? Someone that is well trained, yet their face is still unknown to the enemy….”

Sephiroth sighed. So that was why he asked after Zack. Zack was the only one of the elite that had yet to be sent on a mission without a helmet obscuring his features. He wouldn’t be in any of the Insomnian databases yet. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The man tsked. “I’m afraid that just won’t do in this instance,” he scolded. “The longer you hold out, the longer Insomnia has to discover our lost tech, which may already be in the wrong hands.” He was once again close enough to reach up and pat his face mockingly, like he actually cared about him. “Best make this your top priority if you want to make daddy dearest happy. Otherwise, I don’t want to imagine how… painful your next checkup will be.” He brushed past Sephiroth, shoulder and hip connecting at an uncomfortable angle despite the large amount of room Ardyn obviously had to pass by unimpeded. It must have been an intimidation technique, Sephiroth thought blandly as he listened to his superior’s passing words. “I have yet to see the scientist’s give you their famous injections, but from what I hear you scream deliciously.” A finger trailed down his cheek as gentle as a teardrop, but Sephiroth refused to turn his head to see what the shark looked like as it trailed its finger behind his ear, tucking stray hairs gently behind it.

“I rather think I would like to watch one day.”

Sephiroth’s hands fisted, but he wouldn’t let himself be ruled by such animalistic instincts. He had a feeling even his strength would do little to harm the Chancellor of Niflheim.

The man dropped his hand and passed him by, humming a hauntingly out of tune jingle as he went.

Sephiroth waited a moment before pulling out his PHS. He didn’t want to… but Ardyn had a point. He didn’t want to give his father reason to move up his next exam.

The idea that Ardyn would watch was even more unsettling than an injection without spectators.

His only choice now was to find Zack and send him on the mission before anyone else could get to his innocent, new First Class’s mind first.

And, perhaps if he was in charge of the mission details he would be able to find out what was so important about this special MT that had the Empire’s science department so up in arms that they sent Izunia after him?

Maybe he could make Ardyn regret asking him for his aid?

He could only hope.

 

 


	2. Tilted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis meets a strange woman, Zack meets his match when it comes to hero complexes, and Prompto and MT figure things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue what I am doing!!! Let me know if there is something you want to see, or characters you want to collide in this. I am just having fun drabbling and figuring out where I am going to take this.

Early morning.

It was Ignis’s favorite time of day. Not only did he usually have about three more hours before anyone of import awoke to text him, but also he could escape the world of high class etiquette to one of his favorite places. Almost everyone in the castle was unaware of his secret escape, and he preferred to keep it that way. It was nice having something that was only his own for once, and every time he went there, it felt strangely liberating. Freeing in a way he hadn’t felt since he had first been sworn to his prince.

Not that he disliked being the prince’s aid. He loved Noctis dearly, and couldn’t imagine a life without the boy, but sometimes Noctis made things difficult.

This was Ignis’s one vice besides his addiction to ebony. He deserved this.

Not to mention fact the fish market down in the refugee district was one of the highest quality, despite the neighborhood. Even if he was able to escape titles and proprietary, he still had the occasional run in with hoodlums, but he could hold his own, and often times the refugees would step in and stop violence from happening. They were all familial down in the slums, which Ignis expected was because they had so little due to war that they held onto each other even tighter. There was never a need to tell anyone where he was going, because he knew it would cause a fuss, and Gladiolus would insist on escorting him, which was impossible considering how early the fish market closed.

Most days Ignis didn’t even buy fish. He just looked, thinking of what great recipes he could concoct, taking note of each stall.

Today, he had walked away with nothing from the market except a good feeling for having helped a young woman haggle down the price, and helping a young child to a rather overpriced bar of chocolate.

It was the little things. And those little things helped Ignis feel less like an outsider, and more like family among the refugees. It was nice to listen to their stories when they would give them. A few of them even knew him by name.

It was a wonderful start to a wonderful day, all in all. He dodged the workers putting away their stalls for the day, skipping over fish guts when they sloshed and fell into his path, then he slipped easily down a side alley, happy to head home and get an early start on the rest of his morning.

“Oof!”

He was rather distracted from his train of thought, which already was focused on what dish he would end the day on, when he collided with a slender young woman. She was so slight that even running full force he hadn’t budged from her impact. He grabbed her arms and steadied her, surprised to see such a beautiful young woman unattended in the rougher part of the city. Her spiraling brown hair was slightly windswept, but she had such a kind face despite her wide, frightened green eyes.

He didn’t remember the last person he had seen beside himself and the distant memory of his mother that had such beautiful, expressive green eyes.

“My apologies miss. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

If possible, her eyes widened even further at his appearance. “Your eyes…” She whispered, obviously as taken in by his appearance as he had been by hers. “You must be able to hear it too!”

Ah. So that was why she was running around on the streets. She was obviously insane. Still, he would give her the benefit of the doubt. “Hear what?” Even if she was insane, he couldn’t let her wander the streets like this. Especially if she was hallucinating. Was she on drugs?

Her eyes unexplainably began to shimmer in a way Ignis had never seen before. “The world.” Ignis released her immediately and took a hasty step back. What the heck? “It’s crying. Can’t you hear it?”

She reached out to him, thin fingers brushing his cheek. It was like an electric shock. Images flashing before his eyes. A man in a fedora. Darkness. An aged Noctis with a blade in his chest. The unmistakable shadow of the Niflheim general swallowed by flames.

Ignis stepped back, breaking the connection and gasping like he had just been plunged into ice water.

Well. If she was crazy it must be catching, because now so was he.

He narrowed his eyes. “Who… who are you? What was that?!”

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words that filled the alley way were not hers.

“Come on, doll face! No need to run!”  
Ignis spun, subconsciously widening his stance to protect the woman behind him. “We will only use force if we have to, yo. Now step away from the nice man, before he ends up becoming a nice, dead man.”

Two men emerged from the other end of the alley. Men who were definitely too well dressed to belong in this part of the city. The blue suits were not as concerning, however, as the way the red headed man in front was wielding a thick, metal baton in a vaguely threatening way. Sharp, acid green eyes framed by maroon tattoos locked with Ignis’s earthy green, and a sharktoothed grin warped the stranger’s features.

“Hey, buddy. Step away from the girl. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved.”

The girl in question gripped the back of his shirt to get his attention, but he ignored it. He needed answers, and if this man took her away, he wouldn’t get the chance.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, now,” Ignis voiced, firm and authoritative.

“You don’t even know the girl,” the man mocked, smiling like a snake oil salesman. “I’m trying to give you a chance here.”

“I would be remiss in my duties as a protector of this city if I willingly stepped aside.” The other man chuckled, elbowing his partner, a large bald man in shades who was stoic and unmoved by everything transpiring. Ignis gritted his teeth but carried on. He had been belittled by much greater people in his life than this hoodlum. “Further more, I simply cannot in good conscience hand over this young lady to a goon such as yourself when she is so obviously distressed at your mere appearance.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” the woman spoke softly, tugging harder on his sleeve.

The redhead chortled. “Yeah. You really don’t. It’s sweet and all, but all that talk and I doubt you’ll last three seconds before my baton caves your scull in.” He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, “Step aside and it won’t have to get messy. A nice looking guy like yourself, I doubt you like the idea of messy.”

Ignis usually wasn’t one to let himself be bated, but his opponent certainly had the unfortunate skill of getting under one’s skin. “I clean messes. I don’t make them.” Ignis internally winced at how preposterous his comeback sounded. “And right now I am fairly certain I can sweep the alley with you and still make it back home in time for high tea.” Okay… he partially recovered that one. But he still sounded like a poncy manservant.

“Oh, _god_!” The redhead rolled his eyes, laughter getting even more excited and manic by the moment. “I _hate_ posh people, so this will make killing you so much funner.”

“More fun.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” The man began stretching like he was preparing for a race, lithe muscles going taught beneath his untucked, wrinkled shirt. “Do you mind if we try for a threesome? I don’t want my partner to feel left out. He hates watching. I think he gets jealous.”

Ignis scowled at the blatant innuendo. “The more the merrier, I always say.” He unbuttoned his sleeves, bunching them up, then undoing the top two buttons of his shirt, shaking out his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet to loosen himself up a little before the action started.

Ignis really didn’t like the way the other leered at him, licking his lips in a way Ignis was sure he only did to unsettle him further. It worked. Ignis was thoroughly disturbed. “Hmm. I bet you do. Under all that prim and proper gentleman act I bet you are a really kinky bastard.”

Ignis spluttered.

“Let’s see if I can make you scream.”

He charged.

“Reno, stop!” The brunette woman shouted, stepping out from behind Ignis. Surprisingly, the man, now identified as Reno, halted in his advance. “I can’t let you hurt yourself for me!”

Reno smiled in victory as she stepped toward him, but Ignis grabbed her slender wrist pulled her back. “I can’t allow you to let yourself be hurt!” Like hell he would let this seemingly innocent young woman leave with this depraved man. He turned her right around and pointed to the other end of the alley. “I will be fine. I know how to hold my own. Right now, all I want you to worry about is getting a head start away from these goons.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. Heck, if a man looking like Ignis told himself he knew how to fight, Ignis was pretty sure he would be doubtful at first too, but she looked deeply, searchingly into his eyes. Whatever she saw there seemed to pacify her. “O… okay…” she turned to leave, and Ignis couldn’t bear the thought that at the end of the alley they would have to break eye contact. He hoped he would be able to see her again. “Be safe.” He had so many questions.

He couldn’t make his mouth move, his breath stollen away when she turned around to run, pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Then she was gone.

The redhead huffed behind him, tapping his foot with his arms crossed and drawing his attention back to the impending fight.

One on one probably wouldn’t be too bad, but he would have to be on his guard with a second man added to the mix. “You really are starting off your day on a bad note,” the redhead admonished. “And ending your life on one.” Knuckles cracked.

That was the only warning Ignis had before Reno rushed him, baton held high.

It was obvious to Ignis that the man was testing the waters, going for a straight forward attack to judge his reaction before forming a better plan of attack. The bald man behind him didn’t even move yet, but that didn’t make Ignis any less aware of him.

At the last moment Ignis pulled back, going on the defense, summoning a knife to block rod, holding the flat of his blade against his forearm like a wrist guard to better absorb the impact and relishing the way the other man’s sure expression was overcome by shock. That shock morphed into irritation, and Ignis just noticed the way the man’s grip on the rod changed.

He hadn’t noticed the button on the handle until the thumb was pressing down.

Ignis pushed away quickly, hissing at the way an electric current traveled through his metal blades and up his arms, making his joints lock for a moment before pushing back.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it would be. He readjusted his stance, smirking back at the man. “Nice trick, but I can do it better.” It had been a while since he had been able to have a good fight.

It was Ignis’s turn to rush forward, charging a thunder spell as he darted under the man’s defenses and swiped at his midriff. Unsurprisingly, the man pulled back fast enough to avoid a fatal blow, but Ignis managed a thin slice across his chest, blood sparking with magic that had the man hissing.

Ignis jumped back to avoid retaliation.

“You mother fucker!” Reno, grinned. “I’m gonna enjoy this. Rude? A little help, please?”

He tried to give off an air of easy confidence as the two took up fighting stances in front of him. “Like I said, I can hold my own. Thanks for your concern.”

The bald man stepped forward, and Ignis gulped. He hadn’t realized how big the third man was till he moved into place. Sure, he was nowhere near as big as Gladio, but it was enough to make Ignis doubt how long he could hold them off for before making an escape himself.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that before the redhead was leaping forward, slashing with an animalistic grace and ferocity he hadn’t predicted. Caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack, Ignis had to do a complete back bend to avoid the no doubt bruising force of the weapon before flipping to the side on one hand to avoid the large, meaty fist of the man called Rude.

A fist that he now realized was donning iron knuckles.

Things just kept getting better and better.

“Kinky _and_ flexible? You really are the full package, aren’t you.” Reno sneered, twirling his rod and circling Ignis till he was trapped with his back to Rude. “You know, I usually like to know my dance partner’s name before spilling their guts.”

Ignis heard movement behind him and summoned a second blade, throwing it blindly.

The blade had halted the bald man in his tracks, imbedded in the brick work just in front of his face where Rude had been making to follow after the girl further down the way.

So that was their intention.

“Leaving before the fun begins? No wonder you’re called Rude.”

The, in Ignis’s opinion, amazing one liner was nearly cut off when he was forced to redirect his attention as another swipe was made at his head by the electric rod.

He narrowly avoided the blow, only to get trapped in a bear hug from the larger man behind him.

Ignis hissed, driving his elbows as hard into the rib cage of his capturer, kicking out at the rod before it could make impact, knocking it out of his hands and making it scatter down the way. While the redhead chased it down, Ignis made one more display of his acrobatic skills, kicking his legs high enough to hook both ankles behind his attacker’s neck, using the motion to throw the man off, and pull himself from the grip. By the time he gained his unbalanced freedom, Reno regained his rod and was charging at him again.

It carried on like that for a few more minutes. Ignis narrowly dodging well synchronized attacks, the men obviously use to fighting side by side, predicting each other’s attacks and preparing another before Ignis was properly reoriented from the last one.

Ignis dodged a few near fatal blows, finally getting the opening he needed. He charged, drawing his arm back to plant it in the arm of the man attacking him. Maybe if he could disarm the man again he would be able to escape.

He could hear the city all around him, distant sounds of the market, children playing, birds, and even a car backfiring, but no one seemed to notice the fight carrying on just down a side street. Surely if he heard them, they could hear him too, but nobody came. It was like they were trapped in their own little world.

It was all so surreal.

Ignis went to follow through with his strike, but the usually smooth movement was jilted. His footing was all wrong. His balance was off. His grip on the blade was… nonexistent.

He toppled to the dirt, completely missing his one and only opening. His knives shattered out of existence when he hit the ground.

Why would they do that? He tried summoning them again in a desperate motion, but it didn’t work.

Had something happened to Noctis?!

He couldn’t worry about that now. He had to focus on getting himself out of this situation first. Then he could worry about the prince.

He shakily tried to pull himself back to his feet, confused as to why his red headed opponent hadn’t taken the chance to bash his head in like he’d promised, and was unsettled by the fact the man’s furious eyes were locked on something behind him.

“Tseng! What have I told you about interrupting my play time?”

Ignis spun drunkenly, wild eyes locking onto the newest figure emerging from the shadows. A tall, dark haired man wearing the same suit as the redhead, though much better kept, was standing at the entrance of the alley, leveling a gun right at Ignis’s chest.

Ignis slowly raised his hands in surrender and did quick calculations in his head. One on one he could handle. Two on one, he could manage. Three on one? With a gun involved? He definitely needed to bow out before he lost the ability to.

Dust tickled the back of his throat, and he couldn’t control the painful wet cough that wracked his body, making him grab the wall as he struggled to remain standing while overcome with a strange, sleepy fatigue.

Had he really exerted himself that much without noticing?

“And what have I told you about doing your chores before playing. Where is the girl?” The man hissed in a cold monotone that had Ignis shivering.

Ignis tried to ignore them for a moment, focused instead on breathing, but for some strange reason his chest was rattling.

He didn’t have a cold.

“I’ll find her, yo!” Reno complained. “Cool your jets! I didn’t think a booshi ass pretty boy like him would actually be able to fight.”

Ignis opened his eyes to glare at the man, but found himself unable to lift his eyes from his white gloved hand… that was now speckled red.

No.

_No, no, no!_

Ignis looked down and saw the way his once white shirt was turning crimson, all stemming from a hole in his chest, lazily expelling blood from his body at an alarming rate.

His eyes lazily drifted to the gun the newer man had been leveling at him not moments before. Ignis gritted his teeth.

When had he been shot? How had he not noticed it?

The man blew the smoke off of the barrel and reholstered it, smirking as Ignis fell to his knees against the wall, overcome by a agonizingly cold pain, glaring his most deadly look at the man who would be his murderer.

He would have preferred to die standing up.

“Of all the people you could have picked a fight with Reno,” the man shook his head, “the Prince’s advisor? You really know how to make life difficult for me.”

Reno. He would have to remember that name. And Tseng. And Rude. He had to survive. He needed to see that strange girl again. He needed to ask her… what this all meant. Why were these men after her? Who were they? What were those visions he saw shortly after touching her? Who was she?

If only he could summon a potion or something, but obviously his body could no longer tap into that power. That, or the power no longer recognized him as strong enough to wield it.

The new man crossed the distance and grabbed the back of Ignis’s head, wrenching it up like a hunter might his trophy. “At least we won’t be heading back empty handed,” he listed. Ignis was even more worried considering this man had all the emotive responses of a robot. “Don’t worry. We won’t kill you yet. I’m sure a man of your status has plenty of information to spare in exchange for your life.”

“I’d rather die first than betray my king!” Ignis spat out between bloody teeth, happy that he could at least speckle the man’s clothes with his blood as his last act.

The man wasn’t the least bit perturbed. “Hmmm.” He knelt and pulled Ignis uncomfortably close. “You know, the girl we were after has the same eyes as you… I wonder….” His hand trailed over to Ignis’s eyelids, pinning them open now that they were heavily lidded with pain. Ignis cried out at being handled like a object rather than a human. “We certainly have enough of a blood sample to find out if my theory is correct.” He let go of Ignis’s hair with a tilt of his head that couldn’t be described as anything more than idle curiosity. “Perhaps you are more useful alive after all.”

He spun on his heals, leaving the bald man and redhead in his wake. The way they responded to his presence must have meant he was their superior.

“Wait until he passes out, then use the down.” He passed over a brilliant red feather to Reno, “I don’t want him waking up till we are out of the city. Do what you must.”

“Will do boss.”

The last thing Ignis could remember was Reno taking several lazy steps in his direction, then the butt of the electric rod being raised above his head, a manic glee shimmering in his eyes.

Ignis didn’t need to keep his own eyes open to know what was about to happen. He clenched them shut, unable to even attempt to dodge with how week his body had suddenly become.

“Any last words?”

“Anything I say will be waisted on someone of your intellect.” Ignis hissed, eyes and body clenching at what he knew would be an impending explosion of pain.

“You really know how to make this easy on a guy.” The man joked sadistically. “Alrighty then. Nighty-night!”

The whistle of the baton through the air was swiftly followed by the smash of metal against bone.

…

Outside the alley, life carried on like normal. Tents and product were being carted back to trucks in large bags and crates. The appearance of two more men carrying what appeared to be a lumpy bag of supplies wasn’t questioned at all.

Halfway across the city, Noctis woke with a scream.

It was normal for royalty to feel the connection sever when one gifted with the right to borrow the energy of the crystal was killed, like the backlash of a rubber band snapping.

The most painful part, as Noctis would soon find out, was not knowing who had caused the sudden magical backlash.

Thankfully he only had his three retainers cued in to his magic. Unfortunately, neither Ignis nor Prompto responded to his hurried text.

He wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep till he found them.

Or what was left of them.

——————————

Zack sighed for the millionth and shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, glaring in what was probably a very unintimidating way at the people around him. Curse him and his puppy-like charm.

Zack had a whole lot better things he had wanted to do than stand in line, waiting to be admitted passed the Insomnian boarder officers.

Like, he was supposed to be celebrating his new promotion in Costa Del Sol. It was the most beautiful resort town with the perfect view of Altissia on the horizon, made even more beautiful when watching the sun set behind the distant city with equally beautiful women. He had waited three weeks to get his papers approved, and it was probably going to be his last vacation for a long time now that he was a First Class, but then Sephiroth called.

He really wished he hadn’t picked up his PHS, but Sephiroth, like, never called! It was a super big boost to his ego knowing that he was now important enough to get a call from the big boss himself!

If only he had known what that would entail. Sneaking into the enemy’s capital in search of a MT.

Didn’t the empire have a million of those things? What was the point of tracking down one MT?

There had to be more to the situation, but he really didn’t care beyond the fact that the longer he spent in the city, the less time he would have for the beach.

He grumbled as he hefted his suitcase onto the table. The man behind the desk seemed to be of the same mind. He was probably a little older than Zack himself, with ashy black hair.

Zack hadn’t spent a lot of time outside of Niflheim, so the hairstyle of short on top, long in the back and shaved on the side was… unusual, but this was probably the first man Zack had met that actually looked decent with it.

The man snorted as he opened the case and carded through Zack’s things, pulling out his swimsuit and flower necklace, cocking his brow. “Not to burst your bubble, but Insomnia isn’t exactly known for its beaches.”

Zack folded his arms and leaned against the desk, a coy smile gracing his lips, not one to let himself get mocked when he already wasn’t in the mood. “Wasn’t exactly my first choice of vacation spot, buckeroo,” like Insomnia would be any sane person’s ideal vacation venue unless they were criminals or murderers. “Sometimes you gotta roll with the punches.” He hadn’t even stepped into the city and he already felt like he had been there too long. Surrounded by the enemy. How was he supposed to survive this torment?

The attendant, frustratingly enough, laughed. “Don’t I know it. I’m a Kingsglaive, but they have me on duty securing the border. They say it’s because of a recent sighting of a MT unit this close to the city, but I know the real reason.”

Zack perked at that.

Bingo! So the tracking device mentioned in the report wasn’t malfunctioning when it said the unit disappeared into the city.

On top of that, of all the luck he had, running into a Glaive on the border? Some one must have been smiling down on him.

“Oh, what’s the real reason you got positioned here, then?” Like he really cared. The Glaive probably didn’t make his quota for number of lives taken that month or something.

The man sighed. “My neighbor had her cat caught up a tree.” So he killed it. And then his neighbor. “I may or may not have used a warp strike to get up there to get it down, and apparently that is considered a misuse of power. I was written up, but the kid stopped crying, so I count that as a win.”

Zack’s eyes widened. Of all the things the Empire told him about Glaives, that was the last thing he would have expected one to say. Then again, the Glaive he was talking to didn’t know he was a SOLDIER. Maybe that would have changed the answer some how?

“Wow!!! A real warp strike? That is freaking awesome!” Zack so wasn’t stroking the man’s ego… on purpose. After all, the kind of power that came with being part of the King’s personal Glaive was stuff of legends! Way cooler than his enhanced strength and senses. It was the only power the science department had failed to replicate time and time again. “If I had a power like that I don’t think I would ever stop!!!”

The man blushed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “My boss seems to think I have that exact problem.”

Zack almost felt sorry that the man had to witness his full puppy charm, but what better way to gain information about a missing unit than gain the enemy’s trust. “My name is Zack, by the way. Zack Fair. You are?”

“Nyx. Nyx Ulric. Remember that name, because one of these days I will be known far and wide as the world’s top expert on kitten wrangling.”

Zack laughed.

It was too bad this guy was the enemy, because he wasn’t half bad so far. “I’m more of a dog person myself.” He probably ate puppies. That was his down side.

Nyx breathed a heavy and exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank God!!! I thought I was the only one! My apartment building is cats only. I swear I am allergic, and I think those little masterminds know it. I left my window open one day, and I came home to five!! One had eaten a whole loaf of bread- bread of all things!- and another had puked on my pillow!”

Okay, now Zack was really starting to like this guy. “I mean, they are cute and all,” he gushed, “but every time a cat looks at me I swear they are plotting their world domination!”

Nyx snorted. “Well, now that I know for sure you aren’t here to help the cats take over Insomnia, and you aren’t here to swim, why don’t you tell me why you are here so I can send you on your way?”

Oh.

Why hadn’t Zack thought of the fact that they might ask him this question?

Fudge.

The man was staring at him… waiting. He didn’t look suspicious of him, but maybe he was? He laughed awkwardly and scratched his chin. “Funny story…”

What did Zack know about the stranger that could help him make a believable story? He quickly composed a list in his head.

Well, first off Nyx was the type of person to save a cat even though he didn’t like them. He was also okay getting a reprimand by his boss to help someone less fortunate. He knew something about the missing MT, and he probably knew the city better than anyone else. And he was a Glaive.

Hmm.

If Zack could swing this he deserved another promotion. And a shower for being in such close proximity to a Glaive for so long. And being forced to be in Insomnia for so long.

“A buddy of mine… he got involved with a bad crowd.” Zack fibbed. He was a really good actor when he wanted to be, and the man seemed to be buying it. “When he finally realized what was going on he tried to get out, but I haven’t heard from him since he decided to lie low for a little bit. Somebody sent me out here to search for him when they heard I had the time off, but really I don’t have the first clue where to look.”

Nyx looked apologetic. “I’m guessing by your name that he is a war refugee as well?”

Zack’s eyes widened. Was it really that obvious? Maybe he should have given a fake name.

The man waved the thought off. “Don’t worry, I’m a refugee, too. Not a crime.” The man covered, mistaking the reason for Zack’s alarmed expression. “My family died when my village was slaughtered by the empire.” Yeah right. Maybe that was what Insomnia fed its citizens to convince them they were on the right side of the war. Zack knew the truth. “I know what it means to lose everything. The only thing you need to know is you are safe here.”

Gosh darn it. There was no way this guy was a Glaive. He was too perfect. Normally Zack would think the same thing about himself, but he felt like a terrible person for using this obviously good intentioned, brainwashed man.

It must have been an act. That, or he was probably the only good Glaive in the bunch. And wasn’t that funny, considering how he once had thought the only good Glaive was a dead one. Maybe he would have the chance to convert him? Test the waters?

“It’s… still so fresh, you know?” Zack pressed, going for the sympathy since that had been working so well. “And I don’t think I could stand losing someone else…” Crap. Zack was going to Hell. He was a terrible person. Especially considering the heart wrenching expression his words earned from the Glaive.

“Listen, Zack. Us refugees gotta stick together,” The man reached across the desk and squeezed his shoulder in a brotherly way. Zack hand always thought the touch of a Glaive would make him feel disgusted, but not because he was the disgusting one. There was a reason he hadn’t wanted to be a Turk. He had too much of a conscience, even when dealing with dirty Lucians.

“I’ll tell you what, buddy,” now the enemy was calling him buddy? No! Just no! He was supposed to be evil, not friendly! “I know this town pretty well. I even have an in at the records office. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Marcus Taylor!” That was the only thing Zack could think up spur of the moment. He really hoped the Glaive wouldn’t notice the fact that the initials spelled MT. “But, he probably wouldn’t go by that name. He is very suspicious of people.” Just like Nyx could afford to be more suspicious of people. He was going to get himself killed one day for trying to save everyone.

Nyx ignored the last bit, writing the name and Zack’s own down on a pad and slipping the scrap into his uniform jacket.

Zack needed to remember that it was there. If for whatever reason he was forced to kill the man he didn’t want to leave any evidence behind that he had been in the city.

That said, he really hoped he wouldn’t have to kill the man.

“In seventeen minutes someone should be here to relieve me of my position. If you can wait that long, we can swing by my place, you can drop off your bags for safe keeping. We can ask around, then, we can work our way to the records office. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

It was Zack’s turn to flush uncomfortably. “Look, you are a Glaive! You obviously have better things to do than help me out!” GAH! This man was impossible!!

The Glaive smiled and shook his head. “No, I insist. I may have just finished a 12 hour shift, but I won’t be able to sleep soundly knowing your friend might be in trouble. You might end up in trouble too, if you look in the wrong places. I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself if that happened.”

No! That was something Zack was supposed to say to someone. An evil Glaive had no right acting so nice!!!

“You are too nice to be real,” he really didn’t mean that as the compliment it came out as.

“Just doing my job.”

This was it. Zack had finally met his match when it came to overbearing friendliness. And he really hated that only reason he had to hate the other at this point was because he was too perfect.

 

—————————

Project S didn’t know what to do while the other unit rebooted itself. It suspected that a large portion of the negative reaction it had was due to the shock of seeing MT armor, so it quickly removed the protective casing and stored it in a vacant storage locker beneath a sanitation station.

Of course the armor was very hard to remove, but the small blades and scalpels stored in a odd block helped pry the hardest bits off, even if two of them broke from the force exerted.

By the time it had successfully stored the armor an hour had passed.

It was an odd feeling, wearing nothing more than it’s relatively comfortable, black protective gear. Relatively because it’s arms were bare of any restrictions, but it’s front and back were still bound by a deceptively soft casing lined with wires and needles that plunged deep into the spine and framework of its being. Removing that would be nearly impossible without the aid of the scientists who applied it.

It sat itself down on the floor next to its recuperating fellow unit. It must have been a shock to the system to see another MT when it thought it had successfully escaped.

How had the other done such a thing?

The unit waited. And waited. The storm eventually passed but the lights didn’t come back on. The sun finally began to rise again when the unit began to worry for the newer unit’s well being. How long would it take to reboot?

To pass the time, it curiously ran it’s digits down its bare upper limbs. So soft. How long had it been since it had last touched itself, much less seen itself?

Too long, but not long enough that it wouldn’t recognize its own genetic makeup, even if it was donning such strange protective gear.

It looked down at the other unit just as it began functioning again. Its eyes flickered a few times before meeting the same blue orbs, though Project S knew it’s eyes had an unsettling glow due to numerous updates.

It sat bolt upright.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!! You’re a MT!!!”

It then launched itself at Project S, who really was underprepared for this interaction.

Was the other MT trying to… harm? It didn’t seem to be doing anything efficient if that was the case.

The older MT winced at the shouting, trying to maneuver the other unit off its lap. It had pounced like a puppy when it had fully recovered. It was nearly as excitable as one too… from what it had understood of puppies in its limited database on the subject. It had never really seen one before, so it wasn’t really sure if that was a correct correlation.

And here It was worried how to react when the newer unit recovered after it experienced a forced shutdown.

“…yes…”

“You look like me!!!” The other unit clamored back on to its lap, grabbing its shoulders and getting so close that Project S held its breath. Maybe the other unit had impaired vision, and that was why it needed to get so close? Obviously that was why it was asking such obvious questions. It probably couldn’t properly envision what was before it.

“… yes…” They were both MTs. The unit obviously had a few circuits loose. Maybe that was the main reason as to why it had been able to escape without sounding any alarms? It was the product of faulty manufacturing.

Probably Bethsithia’s work.

“I look like you!” It shook the older unit, as if trying to get it to forcefully process something. What it was supposed to process it had no clue. It was not use to such intense handling.

Project S squinted it’s eyes back at the other unit. Why was it being so loud. Was it’s volume control broken too? And it’s sound receptors? Didn’t it just get an affirmative answer to that same question? Since when did units question things so much? “… Yes?”

“Does that mean I’m a….” The other unit suddenly went silent, face loosing its rosy pigment. It must have been processing some rather important information. Project S could practically see the buffering symbol spinning behind its eyes as it bored a hole into its own glowing orbs. “You are older than me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am a older unit.” The digits on its wrist explained that.

The other unit twisted its face up like it didn’t like that response. It was quickly distracted when its fingers clenched down on unit S’s biceps experimentally, digits wiggling strangely against its bare limbs. “Does that mean I’m gonna get as swoll as you?” It repositioned itself so it could get a better look at its elder’s upper limbs.

Unit S had no clue what that meant. “We are genetically the same, however I have enhancements that will make our functioning capability different.”  
The older MT attempted to explain. “I am Special Unit 674, also referred to as Project S. What is your unit number, and how did you successfully liberate yourself from Niflheim?”

The other unit froze again. That was frustrating. Were it’s functioning capabilities really that low? Perhaps it needed an update?

“Oh! No, no, no! Im not an MT. I’m adopted!”

That wasn’t a word unit S recognized. It wasn’t surprising considering its vocabulary was limited to whatever it needed to understand when it came to orders and commands, and whatever it overheard from the scientists when…

The unit shivered. That was new. It had no reason to emit a full body shake. Perhaps it’s parts were chilled. It had been a long time since it had been able to remove its suit.

“Define Dopted. How does one go about becoming a dopted? Is it a painful procedure?”

The other unit looked at project S like it had grown a second processor. It’s lenses began to shimmer. “Um… the term is adopted. It’s when one or two people take in a child who doesn’t have any parents, and raise it like their own.”

Project S was silent for a long time. Parents. That was a word it recognized. One of the scientists was a parent. Unit S often wondered who had it worse, itself, or the scientist’s own child, who it often boasted about upgrading in a similar fashion it did to its MTs.

The scientist’s child was a human. Not a project. Project S didn’t know why, but it suspected upgradings hurt worse when it came to a real person, and not a disposable unit.

Perhaps this was why the other unit had gotten itself fake parents? The Empire was looking for a lone unit, not a child or human. Trading one’s freedom from the empire’s experiments for private, parental upgradings seemed like a fair trade.

So long as that parent wasn’t Hojo.

“I want you to make me dopt. What is the process?”

The other unit looked confused. “That isn’t the…” it stopped mid thought, further making the other MT question it’s functional capabilities. “Never mind.”

“I want to be like you. I wish to be free.”

It looked at its superior unit again. Project S was sure it must have been processing something really hard. It looked like the other unit was almost in pain with the strain of it.

“You… want to be like me?”

The older MT nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I wish to submit myself to a doption process and procure suitable enough parents that the Empire will be fooled into thinking I am a human.”

It blinked. “Oh!”

“How did you make yourself appear more human?”

The other unit looked shocked. Then a little green for some reason. “I… didn’t even know I wasn’t one?”

Odd. “How did you delete such information from your database?”

“I- I didn’t!”

The older MT nodded like it understood. Perhaps in the process of deleting such important information it also deleted the process needed to remember how to delete?

It would process that possibility later.

“You are an MT, though. Why do you want to run away? None of the others seem to.”

The MT nodded. “I am… not fully programmed due to early designing flaws. If I am captured, it is extremely likely I will be terminated. I… do not wish to be deleted.”

The other unit looked even more pained. So pained that Project S wondered if it had sustained injury at some point. “If… if you want to be like me, then you will need a name.” It finally stated. “What would you like to be called?”

Hmmm… a title? Of course, it wouldn’t be able to go by Project S anymore. That would be too obvious for the empire to track down. It needed something new. Something different.

The MT glanced around the room, looking for an idea. Then it’s eyes landed on the open window. Something white in the sky. It had noticed those strange anomalies on the few missions it had been sent on outside the base. No one ever said what they were, but they must have had a name. Whatever that name was, it must be great to define such a strange yet beautiful occurrence.

“What are those?”

The other unit looked out the window to where the other MT’s digit was directing it’s attention. It squinted it’s eyes, further cementing the fact it must be impaired to not be able to see what was so obvious.

“The cloud?”

“Cloud,” the unit tested the feel of the name on its lips reverently. The sounds were both calming, and powerful, just like itself. It was the perfect match. “Is that a suitable name?”

The other unit’s pigment got redder for a moment. “Cloud Argentum. It’s got potential!”

“What is an Argentum?”

The newer unit laughed. “That’s my parent’s last name, so it’s mine as well. My name is Prompto Argentum, but you can call me little brother.”

Cloud didn’t know what that meant, but the look his fellow unit was giving made it feel strangely warm.

“That’s right, Cloud. I want to dopt you as my brother. Will you accept?”

Just like Prompto didn’t really know what he was offering, Cloud had no clue what it was accepting. “Yes.”

Prompto was sure he would have a mental freak out later about what all this meant… after he figured out exactly what it meant.

He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to give himself enough time to process that though. Because he was pretty sure whatever the answer would be, he wouldn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you take the time to leave a comment, I will make sure to take the time to leave a reply!!!
> 
> Much love,  
> ~Cockadoodledont

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and I will try to reply when I get the chance. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! You are awesome!!
> 
> :)


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